


Bloom

by jujubeans



Series: Swimming: small experiments on avoidance, by Sherlock Holmes. [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Caring John, Experimental Sherlock, Love in a swing!, M/M, Modest (yes!) Sherlock, Oral Sex, Suffering John, Underwater sex toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4142517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujubeans/pseuds/jujubeans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finally gets Sherlock into the water for his swimming lesson.  Sherlock gets John into the water for a lesson of his own.  It seems that water can make things... bloom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AtlinMerrick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtlinMerrick/gifts).



> AltinMerrick you feed my soul. I hope you have enjoyed these four stories I've written, with you in my mind as I type. Thank you for all your support and encouragement. Chase your dreams :0)
> 
> Dear readers, I hope you have enjoyed the ride with my boys. Cross my fingers that you enjoy this last instalment of Swimming: Small experiments on avoidance. I have loved reading your comments along the way. Do me a favour - next time you're swimming, think of all my boys got up to and smile like an idiot, until everyone wonders what naughty things you're thinking about!

#### Wednesday

####    


“Sherlock, are you _still_ on my laptop?”

“Won’t be long now, John”

“You said that two hours ago” John grumbled.

John made himself a cup of tea and wandered over to the window. The day looked gloomy out there. Absently, he watched some birds fighting over something on the rooftop across the street. Nothing much case-wise lately either, although Sherlock, surprisingly, wasn’t being difficult about it. Why _was_ that, he wondered. He took his empty cup over to the sink and piled it in with all the others.

Sherlock was still glued to the laptop. “Well if you’re going to keep ignoring me all day I’m going out.” John patted his pockets. “Where’s my wallet?”

“Here it is, John” Sherlock said, keeping his eyes on the screen but holding it out.

“What are _you_ doing with it?” he asked, checking he had enough cash for Tesco’s. “Why’s my credit card not in here?”

“Hmmm?”

“Don’t worry. It must be around. Do we need anything at the shop?”

“Just a can of propane. And some C cell and AAA batteries. Oh, and some Trex”

“Trex?!”

Eyes still on the screen, Sherlock waved his hand around imperiously. “Yes, John. Vegetable shortening”

“I know what it _is_ Sherlock, I just wondered what… never mind, I don’t think I want to know”

Sherlock clicked away at the keyboard, researching his latest obsession. He heard John shuffling around in the doorway, ”oh, and a tabloid newspaper if you please, John”

“Sherlock, are you serious? I’m just _returning_ – I’ve been gone three hours. Have you been staring at that screen the whole time?”

“…Ahh… did you get the Trex?”

 

#### Thursday

####    


“Sherlock! There’s another package arrived for you. Why have I been taking delivery of packages all day?”

Sherlock poked his head out of his bedroom doorway. “Sorry John. Could be a few more, yet”

Bloody hell. “Where’s my laptop?”

Sherlock ducked back into his room before reappearing with said laptop. “Here you go, John”

John snatched it and walked to the lounge, muttering about errant laptops and absent boyfriends. Nobody listened to him anyway. He might as well be deleted.

“I listen to you John. And I never delete anything to do with you” Sherlock sung out from the bedroom.  
John hurrumphed and settled in for some two-fingered blogging. There was a nice little case he wanted to post about an unfaithful husband, his gay lover and their unfortunately fatal sexual shenanigans in a yew tree. He was thinking of calling it “BLATANT INN-YEW-END-O” Sherlock had cleared the wife and solved the case in thirty minutes flat but it didn’t make it any less interesting, not to mention titillating.

He was plonking away at the keyboard an hour later when he heard strange noises coming from Sherlock’s room. _Whirr whirr whirr. Grunt. Whirr whirr whirr. Bang. Whirrreeeehh_ … nothing. God only knew what he was getting up to in there. _Buzzzzzzzzzz buzzzzzzzzzzzz grunt grunt_ “agh!” _grunt click grunt buzzzzzzzzzzz_ …

Oh come on! This was a bit much. “Sherlock, my sweet. Do you need any help in there?”

“NO John! No, I’m fine”

John just smiled to himself. _Knock knock_ “Package for Holmes!”

 

#### Friday

####    


“Sherlock, my graceful little swan, why are there strings of silicon caulking all over the kitchen? Are you going to re-seal the tiles?” 

John prodded experimentally at the silvery trails of clear gel. It looked like a demented giant slug had slithered across their kitchen in a very haphazard, drunken way. 

Sherlock came in from the hallway, bits of silicon hanging from his curls like sections of Shelob’s web. He swiped the back of a hand across his brow and a blob of ooze dropped onto his eyelid, sealing his eyelashes together. “I’m having a bit of trouble, John”

“I can see that, my gelatinous handyman. Would you like me to take a look at that eye for you?”

“That would be helpful, John, yes”

 

#### Saturday

####    


All quiet on the Baker Street front. No whirring. No grunting. No deliveries. No home improvement injuries. Sun was shining, birds were singing. John decided he was due some quality time with his love, taking a walk and some lunch in the park. He phoned downstairs for some takeaway and went in search of Sherlock.

As he got half way down the hall he heard a low-level humming coming from the bathroom. “Sherlock?” he called through the door.

Sudden splashing could be heard. “Just a second, John... OK, it’s open, come in”

John opened the door to find his naked detective sitting all-too-innocently in the tub, hands resting in his lap and looking all delicious. This required further inspection.

“I thought we might go out for a walk. I ordered us some lunch to take with us. It’s lovely out, but we could stay here and get naughty in the bathtub if you’d rather…” John trailed his fingers through the bath water toward Sherlock’s lap, jerked back and shouted, “Jesus, Sherlock! That water’s freezing! Why are you sitting in cold water? This had better not be some experiment on the stages of frostbite or something!”

“The water wasn’t cold when I got in, John. I’ve just lost track of time”

“How? You’re not even reading a book or anything. What the hell have you been doing in here?”

“Nothing, John. A walk sounds lovely. Just give me five minutes to get ready”

As John wandered away shaking his head he heard Sherlock shift and the low humming became audible again.

 

#### Sunday

####    


If John knew one thing about his little dumpling it was that if cases were slow and Sherlock wasn’t complaining it was because he had another focus, and John was fairly certain now that the great detective’s mind was focused on Tuesday. John didn’t know what insane ideas Sherlock was cooking up, but things had gone far enough. He wanted Sherlock to take that lesson and he wanted his boyfriend back. It was time to get everything out in the open. And if he didn’t like what he learnt when he opened that Pandora’s box? He could always seal it all back together again with Sherlock’s silicon caulk. He took a seat on the coffee table.

“Sherlock Holmes, get your beautiful arse out here. Right now.” Weird. Why did that sound like déjà vu?

“Can it wait a minute, John? I’m just looking for the acetone.”

“Why do you need that, my sexy pancake?”

Sherlock appeared in the sitting room with a piece of fur stuck to his finger. “I need to dissolve this glue”

“Sherlock, why do you- no, forget it. Sit down, please. We need to talk” John heard an indrawn breath. “No. I don’t want to hear it. Just leave whatever you’re doing and come and sit down.” John gestured to the lounge in front of him.

Sherlock sat obediently and looked expectantly at John. The good doctor placed his hands on Sherlock’s knees, took a deep breath and began.

“I wanted to talk to you about Tuesday”

“Oh that’s good John, because I needed to talk to you about that, too. I’ve gained permission to use that pool and-“

“That’s great, Sherlock. I’m looking forward to it, but-“

“Me too, John!”

“-I’ve noticed an increased level of preoccupation in you this week. Is it all to do with Tuesday?”

“Yes, John. I’ve been planning”

“Yes. I thought you might have been. Could the caulking and the batteries and all the mysterious packages be related to this impending event?”

“Maybe”

“And what about the propane?”

“Oh, that was for the blow torch”

“And what would you need- no, once again, I’d rather not know… What about the Trex, Sherlock? Are we thinking of making some kind of pastry treat to take with us?”

“Well, no that’s not really what I read it’s best for…”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure it will all become abundantly clear to me soon. I just want to ask you – beg of you, really – please, whatever inane contraptions you’ve bought or invented or blow-torched, if it’s potentially harmful to my being could we perhaps leave it at home? Do you think you could manage to just make this a normal day? A regular day like normal people have where two people go out and one teaches the other something, without Holmesian mishaps like amphibians, or faulty stitching, or mis-tucked appendages. Do you think we can manage that?”

Things had gone quiet. John looked at Sherlock and saw faint worry and what he thought may have been _hurt_ on his face. He peered into his eyes and saw a sheen of moisture there and suddenly felt like the biggest heel on earth. 

What was he thinking? As crazy as the last three Tuesdays had been, what would they have been like with somebody else? Well for a start, there would have only been one Tuesday, and it would have involved John sitting poolside reading a novel for an hour, then walking home. Case closed. There wouldn’t have been mad, hot cubicle lust with the Black Shorts of Sex. There would have been no beautiful Red Sherlock bending over the bed in a blaze of red velvet heels. And there would most definitely not have been any Sexy Sheer Sherlock nor any smiting of Juan by one BAMF Army doctor – take that, Lisping Caramel Spaniard!

No, he didn't want to be John 'nothing-ever-happens-to-me' Watson again. He chose not to be that man long ago and since that day, life with Sherlock had certainly been a lot more interesting. And that wasn't even counting whatever the mad idiot had planned next. Suddenly he couldn’t wait for Tuesday.

“Actually Sherlock, scrap that request. I think I just went off-grid for a second there” He rubbed his palms up and down Sherlock’s thighs. “It’s just that I miss you from our bed and I’m probably a tiny bit jealous of the time you’re spending on whatever you’re doing. I’m actually really looking forward to Tuesday. You’ve got my curiosity piqued. As to the swimming, we’re going to take it nice and easy and there’ll be no pressure on you at all. I’d like it if you could float by the time we leave but if that’s not possible then we’ll just take our time and revisit, and keep at it until you can. OK?”

Sherlock’s expression perked-up. “Yes John. I won’t have to learn the whole time we’re there, will I? Can we have leisure time too?”

“Yes, Sherlock. Plenty”

 

#### Monday

####    


“John, how much room is there going to be in the car?”

They were borrowing Molly’s car overnight so they could drive out to the property tomorrow and John was about to cab it over to Bart’s to pick it up.

“I don’t know, Sherlock. I haven’t seen it yet but how much room can you need?!”

“ ‘How much’ is a relative term, John”

 

#### Tuesday

####    


“Can I come out yet, Sherlock?”

“Just two more minutes, John”

John had been waiting in the luxurious pool house for over half an hour while Sherlock bashed and crashed about poolside doing mysterious things. It wasn’t like it was a hardship lying on the chaise sipping boutique beer but he was worried Sherlock was setting up another huge avoidance scheme out there in the vast, deserted country estate.

“OK John, you can come out now”

John emerged from the cabana to face a maniacally grinning Sherlock with his chest all puffed out. He was in his silvery-grey Speedos, standing proudly next to what John was pretty sure was a sex swing – on steroids. John felt frustration brewing in his gut, as if the yeast in the beer he’d been drinking was reacting, frothing and bubbling in there. Sherlock couldn’t possibly be doing this a fourth time, could he?!

“Sherlock, that looks like a sex swing”

“Obvious, John” the grinning idiot said.

John took three deep calming breaths. “I know I said it wouldn’t all be swimming lessons today but I did kind of want to get started with that. That _is_ the priority, the main reason we’re here.”

“I know John. That’s why I’ve adapted it. I did some research on learning how to float and thought if I welded extra height into the frame, and made a special sling to go under my back it would help you to teach me, John.”

John felt his ire deflate. “I’m sorry, Sherlock. I thought you were only thinking about the leisure time afterwards…”

“Oh yes, I am planning on using it later too, John! I’ve made another special sling for that but for now it’s a floating aid” he smirked.

“Good. OK. Well then let’s get it into the water and get started”. So a doctor and a detective, with no one to witness other than the birds in the numerous trees, worked in tandem to place the swing in the shallow end of the pool, adjusting the height of the frame and setting various floating devices to hand.

“John, I read that listening to soothing, familiar music can put you at ease so I bought a waterproof speaker that will allow me to hear Bach while my ears are under the water.” He turned it on and popped it in the water.

“Sherlock that’s extraordinary. I can’t believe how interested you seem in learning now, after avoiding it for so long. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, John. I just want to please you” he offered innocently.

John paused. Sherlock wasn’t even remotely interested in pleasing him over the last three Tuesdays. Why now? He decided to say nothing for now but to stay on guard. “Okay. The most important thing, as you said, is for you to be relaxed. I’m going to get you to lie on your back with my hands and the swing strap under your back, hips and base of your neck. I won’t take my hands away without us both agreeing it’s OK, alright?”

“Yes, John”

So with a few nervous giggles, they worked together to get Sherlock into the swing. John spoke soothingly to him when Sherlock tensed up and went to baulk or thrash in fear. 

Over the next hour John got Sherlock to let his head tilt back until his chin was up and his ears were under the water. His hands being busy under his beautiful boyfriend’s body, John gentled him verbally, urging him to listen to the music, deliberately calling the piece by the wrong name so that Sherlock would correct him. Eventually he relaxed enough for John to encourage him to let his legs bend at the knees and sink slightly so that John could remove his hand that was under Sherlock’s hip. They celebrated that milestone with a five minute sub-aquatic feel-up, just gentle fingers drifting over pearly skin at leisure. After another twenty minutes and lots of petting and reassuring, Sherlock agreed that John could remove the hand under the base of his neck.

“Look at you, Sherlock! You’ve only got the sling strap under your waist now. I’m so proud of you. How do you feel?”

“Petrified, John. Don’t move away! Stay with me!”

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” John stroked his fingers gently in the water around Sherlock’s body, being careful not to make splashes. He tried to distract his student. “This swing of yours is brilliant. I can only imagine what you have planned with it for later…”

It worked. Sherlock smiled. “Oh you have no idea. I’ve been thinking about it all week.” He paused. “I know I’m not floating on my own yet but I also know I’ve achieved much more than I would have with anyone else. Thank you for being so patient, John.”

John, unused to a modest or grateful Sherlock, felt greatly moved. He had to clear his throat a couple of times before responding. “You’re so very welcome, Sherlock. There’s not a lot I can teach you that you don’t already know, but this I can. And now, I think we’re getting a bit pruney, so let’s hop out for a bit and have a rest and something to eat.”

John helped Sherlock out of the sling and they wrapped themselves in towels and went to the cabana. They’d been told to make themselves at home so John fished out some fresh fruit, nuts and other snacks from the compact kitchen. They relaxed together on the chaise, John spreading his legs apart and patting the space between for Sherlock, who leant his back against John’s chest and sighed.

John ran his hands down Sherlock’s chest. “Mmmm. Your skin’s so cool and smooth”

“Except my digits. They’re all crepe-y” 

John reached over and grabbed some pineapple and fed it to Sherlock. As they chewed quietly a thoughtful kind of peace came over them. John absently skimmed his hands over his love’s body and Sherlock hummed a gentle tune into the quiescence. John couldn’t think of a time when he knew Sherlock to be so restful.

To him, Sherlock’s body was like a beautiful and complicated instrument. John had tenderly and carefully been studying, observing and nurturing his knowledge of it and now that he had mastered it he had no trouble bringing to life all the little dynamics no one else would be able to coax from it. John acknowledged this was because Sherlock’s instrument would only ever be mastered by someone _he allowed_ to master it and to date there was only one virtuoso. Only one man was permitted to reach every high note, bow such trembling vibrato, coax every grace note from its anima. For John’s touch, even Sherlock’s open strings would sing as sweetly as any harmonic ever would. 

John demonstrated his skill by drifting his fingers up and over Sherlock’s nipple. The left one was the weak point, the chink in his armour, the one that always made him squirm. He placed his lips on Sherlock’s neck where they felt most at home and bit his sweet spot just under his right ear, double-stopping his tongue against the flesh pinched between his teeth.

Sherlock shivered and trembled in his embrace. John was feeling a little vulnerable himself. It was as if the complete trust Sherlock had given him in the pool was still in effect and John was humbled. He felt as if they were as intimate and open to each other as they’d ever been.

“John?” Sherlock teased his fingers over John’s forearms.

“Mmmmm?”

“In a bit, can we use the spa, do you think?” God, John _loved_ when Sherlock’s voice went all rumbly.

“Sure, Sherlock. In a bit” he murmured lazily, absently stroking. The silence stretched comfortably. He didn’t want this peaceful feeling to end. Eventually Sherlock cleared his throat.

“John…” he hesitated. John could hear the frown between Sherlock’s eyebrows. He smiled.

“What is it? Ask me”

“I’d like us to try something different.” A beat. “I want you to let me come to you. I want to know how you feel when you make yourself a part of me, and I want you to know how it feels when I lay myself open to you becoming a part of me. Do you think… could we… perhaps-“

John whimpered. Sherlock sat up slightly and twisted around to see John’s face. He couldn’t handle the lack of visual data any longer. John had tensed up but his cheeks were pink and he was breathing shallowly through his mouth: arousal. Sherlock relaxed a bit.

“Really, Sherlock? You want to…”

“Really, John. Will you let me inside you?”

John felt a mixture of emotions rush up and hit his chest. Bottoming wasn’t something he’d done before and the thought of handing over all control was quite alien to him. But if he was honest with himself there was also excitement bubbling there, and keeping in mind who this man was to him, and how Sherlock had put his trust in John today he thought perhaps the time had come to open himself to this.

While John mused, Sherlock twisted around completely, ditched his towel and straddled John’s hips. He leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on the good doctor’s lips. He looked earnestly at John.

“I’ll be very gentle, John. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. I’ve brought some toys we can use in the spa to help you relax…” God, how the tables were turned! Two hours ago _John_ was relaxing _Sherlock_ in the water.

“Ha! Sherlock, I doubt anything will last long in the water”

“Oh no, John. That’s what the silicon was for. I’ve loaded everything up with fresh batteries and reinforced the seals with caulking. I’ve tested it all in the bathtub. It holds under hot and cold conditions” 

“Is that what you were buggering around with all week?! Oh god, what was the fur for?”

Sherlock got excited and wiggled on John’s lap. “Oh that’s really quite good, John. I glued fur to a diving glove to see what it would feel like under water and it’s wonderful, John. You’ll like it” He looked at john expectantly, with such hope, like a little boy waiting for Christmas.

John reached up and pulled Sherlock’s head towards him. He touched lips with the only man he’d ever loved and nodded. “Come on, Sherlock. I’m all yours.”

 

After a bit of banging about again, Sherlock had the swing set-up over the spa. He showed an incredulous John the extra long sling he’d made that would hang below the level of the frame and into the water below. John blanched a bit when he saw how many toys Sherlock had stacked up in the sports bag at the spa edge – how much bloody money did he spend! - but when he looked over at the open excitement on his sweetheart’s face he knew he couldn’t deny him.

They laughed as they got John naked and positioned in the sling. It was a bit different to the floating one. This one was more like a laid-back cradle with spots for John to put his feet that reminded him of the stirrups in the surgery. He suddenly empathised with the many women he’d so casually ordered up into them. To say he was feeling a bit vulnerable was putting things lightly. 

He looked over at Sherlock, who was pulling a familiar item out of the bag. “Sherlock… why is the Trex here? You’re _not_ going to grease me up like a bloody loaf tin!”

“Relax, John. I read this was the best waterproof lubricant, and I’ve tested it and it’s quite true.” Sherlock scooped up a generous portion of shortening in two fingers. John felt like a goose. Like a big trussed-up Christmas goose that was about to be stuffed.

“Look at me, John.” John dragged his eyes away from the Trex. Sherlock was flushed and his eyes were sparkling at John, begging him to trust him. Suddenly John was right there in the moment with him.

“Okay, Sherlock. Baste me” he grinned. Sherlock leaned forward and kissed him, touching his fingers just behind John’s balls and rubbing in slow circles. The groany sound that came out of John was slightly embarrassing. He was so wound up he was already halfway there. When Sherlock’s fingers slid back and swirled around his opening he moaned into the kiss and lifted his hips in the sling. He could feel Sherlock smile against his mouth.

Sherlock continued his ministrations to John’s behind, relaxing him as the warm water bubbled around them. He closed his eyes and slumped back into the cradle, thrusting up onto fingers, curling his head aside to invite nibbles to his neck. Oh he felt sooo good. Sherlock backed off for a moment, and then he could feel something other than fingers stretching him open. It was snug but not too big, giving only the tiniest burn momentarily. He relaxed, allowing it to be pressed in and out of him without resistance. 

John reached up and grabbed the ropes above his shoulders that lead to the frame above, causing the cradle to swing slightly in the water. He felt wanton and floaty. It was a very seductive feeling. He cracked open his eyes and saw Sherlock preparing another, slightly larger toy. Sherlock turned and startled when he saw John’s open eyes. He paused, waiting for communication. John pressed his feet into the cradle and lifted his hips toward Sherlock in unspoken agreement. 

“God John, you look so beautiful, so perfectly trusting, so utterly abandoned. I can’t believe I’ve made you look like that.”

John moaned and let his head flop back.

“I can’t wait to see you on my cock, John.”

“Oh my god. You can’t say things like that, Sherlock”

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to last, John”

“Come up here and let me suck you then. Let me take the edge off, Sherlock”

Sherlock hesitated. He wanted to be able to last inside John and at this rate he’d blow before he got half way in. John made a little whimper again and that was it. Sherlock slowly worked out the toy and tenderly worked in the new, bigger one. John squirmed and opened for him. The toy popped in and he started it humming on a low speed.

“Holy hell! Get up here in my mouth, now.”

Sherlock carefully adjusted the swing’s height in the water so that John was low enough to suck his cock. He quickly stripped off his Speedos and got on the inner ledge of the spa and gently tilted John’s head back. 

“Is this OK?”

John was totally in the moment. “God yes. I feel like a bloody tart and I love it”

Sherlock reached up and placed his hands over John’s on the ropes and gently swung the cradle back and forth so that John moved over his length in a swaying motion. It was utter bliss. He looked down at his love and saw how abandoned he looked, and felt so much love and tenderness well up in him he thought he’d burst. What if he ever hurt this man? Suddenly feeling fiercely protective, he caressed one hand over his face, running his fingers around John’s lips where they enveloped his cock. John hummed in encouragement and the emotional turmoil and visual feast had him ascending before he was aware of himself. He gasped and came in a surge, pouring himself into John’s welcoming mouth until he was limp, still gripping the ropes, hanging over John like a slack puppet.

Sherlock caught his breath and opened his eyes to see John grinning up at him licking his lips. It made him hard again already. He leaned forward and kissed him, drew back and nuzzled him and breathed in deeply. “Oh John, your lips smell like come”

“FUCK”

“I want to feel you come around me so badly, John”

“Then come to me, Sherlock. I’m ready” he panted.

Sherlock looked searchingly at his love’s face. John smiled steadily back at him, offering reassurance. Whatever he was looking for he must have seen it because he hopped down from the ledge and moved around to gently remove the toy and press his groin to John’s arse. He placed his hands on John’s legs and rubbed some feeling back into them. He stood lightly in the water, letting the bubbles bounce and jostle him against John. The free feeling of the water caressing their bodies was exquisite. He reached down and gave himself a couple of good strokes and lined himself up with John. He suddenly felt a bit afraid of the moment, like he might bugger it all up. He hesitated and looked up at John. John was looking at him intently. As he watched, frozen, John reached out one hand to him. He placed his palm on John’s wrist in a monkey grip and as they held each other, he slowly pressed inside John and Sherlock felt an unfurling deep within. That was it for him. He was utterly taken. Forever.

“I need to hold you, John”

Sherlock reached beneath John’s body and lifted his love to him. John wrapped his arms and legs trustingly around Sherlock as he backed up to the bench seat in the water. Wriggling back onto the ledge, still deeply connected, Sherlock gathered John to him sweetly. They stared at each other in the quiet lassitude.

Sherlock took a deep breath and released it slowly over John’s chest. “I love you, John Watson”

Before he knew it was coming, John felt a tear race up and over his eye and down his cheek. He tilted forward and pressed his cheek to Sherlock’s and linked his hands behind Sherlock’s neck _and rocked. And circled. And ground._

“Oooh, yes, that’s it, John. You set the pace”

John can’t understand it all, it’s too much, he’s too open, he’s whirling, he’s out of control, can’t comprehend, can’t centre himself . He’s everything all at once.  
He’s here in the pool.  
He’s a doctor who heals.  
He’s resuscitating under gun fire.  
He’s a limping veteran.  
He’s sprinting after Sherlock.  
He’s him.  
He’s Sherlock.  
He’s them together.  
He’s everything everywhere and it’s the combination of him and this glorious man beneath him who’s made him that way.

“Oh god oh god oh god oh god I bloody LOVE you, Sherlock!” he roars to the heavens and he’s never felt so tethered and so free at the same time.

It’s a sacred dance, an inviolable connection.

Arms wrapped tightly, they move sinuously, together alone, rocking faster and faster, breath gusting, spiralling higher, shallow and deep until they clasp tighter than ever and... just.... fucking... _**bloom**_ and tumble into the waves together.

 

Sherlock reclined on the lounge in Baker Street, stretched one long leg over the back and languidly enjoyed a moment of rest. John was out getting provisions as they’d let the cupboard run down a bit this last week. He let a hand drape across his chest and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of being thoroughly debauched. John had really let him have it when they got home and he was in no position (well, many positions, actually) to refuse his bossy little autocrat after the way he let Sherlock take the reins at the pool. Who would have known swimming lessons would be so rewarding. He wondered what his reward would be if he got up to paddling…

His experiments with the sex toys had certainly paid off. And speaking of paid off, he had to remember to go put money on John’s credit card. He would have used his own but the toy sites were so engrossing and John’s wallet was right there within reach and he’d have them paid before John would know anything ab-

“SHERLOCK! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BOLLOCKING CREDIT CARD?! TESCO’S REFUSED IT FIVE TIMES AND I HAD TO LEAVE EVERYTHING THERE AT THE COUNTER. EVEN THE _BISCUITS,_ SHERLOCK… SHERLOCK?!!!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, leaving kudos and leaving comments. Comments mean so much when you're blindly putting your heart out there on the net. Without comments, how can we know anyone is enjoying what we're writing? Please consider taking a minute to leave a comment after reading your next fic - who knows, it may lead to one of your favourite writers putting pen to paper for you again, and that can't hurt, can it?!


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